River of Fear
by mcatB
Summary: After being injured, Carlos's fears lead him away from those searching for him.


River of Fear

By Mady Bay – mbay@binghamton.edu

April 28, 2003

"Will you two just decide?" Butch pled. They were running late for Jimmy's birthday party and Butch could only curse the fact that his truck was in the shop and he had to catch a ride with Carlos and Kim. On their own, each of them talked enough to give him a headache. Butch was not looking forward to the trip with the two of them bickering at each other, talking at the same time and trying to get him to play referee. When he got no reply, he took matters into his own hands. "Fine. The Durango's got more legroom. Carlos, you're driving," he ordered and got into the back seat of said vehicle.

"There, you see?" Carlos began. "Butch agrees; I'm the better driver."

"I don't think so, Carlos," Kim retorted. "He just knows that in order for you to be a proper gentleman, you should drive."

"Will you two just get in the car, please?"

Seeing the pleading look on the older man's face, the two finally did as they were bid. Carlos started the Durango up and drove out of the parking lot. 

"You know where you're going?" Kim asked.

"Of course I do," Carlos replied curtly. "I've been to Walker's ranch plenty of times. I could drive there with my eyes closed if I had to."

Butch just shook his head and closed _his_ eyes as he sat in the back seat, trying to block out the two. If he didn't know better, he'd think the two were married.

Driving onward, Carlos had to slow his pace, as traffic got heavy. 

"Wonder what's going on?" Kim mused.

"Looks like an accident," Carlos replied, trying to look ahead past the cars in front of him. He switched the channels on his police scanner and listened to the highway patrol's transmissions.

"Dammit," he swore. "They're closing down both lanes. We gotta find another way to Walker's."

"Take this exit ramp," Kim suggested. "The old service drive follows the highway and then there's another road you can take."

"You've been that way before?" he questioned.

"I used to live around here, Carlos. Right, Butch?" 

"She's right, Carlos. Listen to her," he replied tiredly.

Seeing a dozen or so other cars and trucks with the same idea, Carlos did as he was told and took the next exit, off the backed up highway.

Knowing that they were going to be even later now, Carlos pushed the speed limit just a bit, doing about ten miles per hour over the limit. He still had friends in high enough places in the police department; he wasn't worried about a speeding ticket. That and the rest of the cars on the road seemed to be doing the same thing…

"Will you slow down a little, Carlos? I'd like to get to the party in one piece, you know," Kim complained.

"I'm not going any faster than the rest of the cars out here."

Butch rolled his eyes again… When he got to the party, the first thing he was going to do was get himself a nice, stiff drink. Maybe a double…

"At least slow down on the bridge; sometimes after a good rain it can get slippery," she said.

"What bridge?" Carlos asked, a bit of trepidation in his voice.

Kim quickly recalled Carlos's fear of heights. "There's just a small bridge about a half a mile ahead. Don't worry about it," she replied.

"Small bridge, huh?"

"Yes. Very small. Sorry I mentioned it."

"I'm not worried."

__

I'm in Hell, Butch thought. _I wronged somebody somehow, somewhere, and God Almighty is making me pay for it now. Somebody please shoot me. Something. Anything to put me out of my misery_, he pled. _Somebody please shut them up!_

Unfortunately for Butch, his prayers were answered. Before Carlos had the chance to react, a tractor-trailer tried to pass him on the left, and as it moved forward, it hit the back of the Durango, pushing it forward and spinning it toward the right. Then, the small compact car that had been traveling behind them slammed into the passenger side of the Durango and pushed it across the two lanes of traffic and against the side of the bridge they'd just gotten onto. The last things Carlos remembered were the noise the loud crashes caused in his head and the sight of the steel bridge girder as the Durango got closer to it. Then everything was dark and silent.

+ + + + + + +

"Carlos? Carlos, can you hear me?" Butch called, but all he got in response was a low moan and a groan. "Kim?" Butch was about to try his door again when he heard the sharp gasp. "Carlos?" he called, looking forward again.

Carlos knew something had happened. He remembered the Durango jolting forward after the semi hit the back of it, but how it had gotten into the position it was now in, he didn't recall. He didn't _want_ to recall. He just wanted out. Now. Because every time he opened his eyes, the only view he had was that of a raging river seventy-five feet below him. Carlos's fear of heights, and the panic that came with it, was in full gear.

"Carlos? Come on, buddy, talk to me," Butch called again. 

He could see that Carlos was awake. Almost as soon as the realization was made, Carlos began moving about. Butch was now able to see the blood on the left side of Carlos's face. He reached forward and put a hand on Carlos's shoulder. 

"Easy, buddy. Don't move around so much," he said, hoping to soothe.

"Butch?" Carlos rasped, recognizing is friend's voice. "Gotta get out," he then mumbled as he tried to climb to his right, only to find himself trapped. "No. No," he whispered, fiddling with his seatbelt unable to unlatch it. Then he saw the figure lying next to him. "Kim?"

"Yeah, she's hurt, Carlos," Butch said, squeezing Carlos's shoulder. 

Carlos closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to stay calm. He knew he should be thinking rationally, like Butch seemed to be doing. But when he opened his eyes again and saw the river below him again, his fear got the best of him. "I gotta get outta here, Butch. We're gonna fall!" he insisted, the panic evident in his voice.

"No, Carlos, we're not. Just calm down, okay?"

"We're gonna fall!"

Butch didn't know what to do. He'd known Carlos was afraid of heights, but he'd never before seen the young man in a full-blown panic attack brought on by that fear. He'd seen for himself the precarious position the Durango had ended up in, pushed up against the bridge railing, almost tipped onto its side. A taller vehicle, like a moving van or tractor-trailer would have gone over the rail. Butch hadn't been worried about that happening to the Durango, but now, with Carlos moving about frantically, he had to wonder about the stability of the vehicle… and that of his friend.

He squeezed Carlos's shoulder even tighter, making sure he had the younger man's attention as he said, "No Carlos! Listen! We're NOT gonna fall! Now just calm down and sit still! You're just making things worse."

"Can't!" 

Carlos tried closing his eyes, but all he could see was the river below. He began hyperventilating. "She said it was a little bridge!"

"Carlos! Calm down!" Butch commanded. "Come on, slow down. We're not going to fall. Listen; I hear sirens. Help's on the way and we'll be outta here in no time."

If Carlos heard him, he didn't show it. His panic only increased as he opened his eyes again to see the river below. He began to fidget in his seat, pulling on the steering wheel and banging on the windshield. He started turning toward Kim again, ready to climb over her.

"No, Carlos!" Butch yelled, grabbing him by the arm. "You're gonna hurt her worse! Just sit still!" He looked around outside the SUV. "Look, the firemen are here. They're gonna get us outta here. Just wait."

"I can't, Butch!" Carlos practically screamed. "I gotta get out. I can't… We're gonna…"

"Hello in the Durango!" a voice called. "Everybody okay?"

"No!" Butch called back. He turned toward the fireman standing on the hood of the car that had hit them. "She's hurt real bad!" Butch added, pointing to Kim's unconscious form, slumped against the dash. 

"Just the three of you?" the fireman asked, getting to the Durango and reaching in to check Kim's pulse. 

"Get us out of here!" Carlos shouted at the fireman.

"We will, sir," he answered. "Just be patient."

"Hurry!"

"Carlos, calm down," Butch spoke up. "They gotta get Kim out first, okay? Just close your eyes and relax."

Butch watched as Carlos closed his eyes, but he knew that the man was hardly relaxed as the muscles in his shoulders and neck were noticeably tensed. He saw the swarm of emergency personnel working outside the SUV. Some were working on the small car that had impacted the passenger side of the Durango after it had spun around, pushing it against the side of the bridge. The semi truck that had caused the accident was nowhere in sight.

Carlos flinched as the _sawz-all_ tool the firemen used roared to life. He tried to calm down; tried to listen to Butch's instructions; but in the end, all he kept seeing and hearing was the raging river far below him. He could feel the cold water rushing around him, enveloping him, drowning him. It was getting harder to breathe. He had to get out!

"Butch?!" he cried, desperate for the other man to somehow help him.

"I'm right here, Carlos," he said. "I'm not goin' anywhere. Just hang tight. They've almost got Kim out and then it'll be your turn."

At the mention of Kim's name, Carlos looked to his right. He watched as the firemen finished strapping the extrication device around her small body and then began to pull her out of the vehicle. No sooner was she clear from the vehicle than another fireman appeared, hoping to check on Carlos before they decided if he needed any special extrication precautions.

But Carlos wouldn't wait. He practically pushed the man out of the door as he climbed across the seat and out of the Durango, landing unceremoniously on the roadway. 

__

I'm still on the bridge, he realized quickly and looked around, ignoring the fireman still trying to check on him. Seeing the end of the bridge, and solid ground, to the right, he pushed the man aside and headed that way as fast as he could.

"Hey!" was all that the fireman could say.

"Carlos!" Butch shouted at the same time, trying to climb over the seat and towards freedom.

By the time Butch got out and assured the fireman that he was okay, he headed to the right, in pursuit of Carlos. Unfortunately, he couldn't see the younger man anywhere.

+ + + + + + +

Carlos stumbled, tripping over a tree root, and tried to catch himself against the tree's trunk. Unfortunately, his shaky hands slid against the wet trunk and he fell to the ground. Gasping for breath, he tried to remember why he was running in the woods to begin with. 

He knew he was hurt – his head and left side throbbed painfully in time with his racing heart – but he had no recollection as to _how_ he'd gotten hurt. All he knew was that he was afraid. Something had scared him; something lethal enough to make him run into the woods on a dark, rainy night. 

Water. He knew the sound of the rushing river nearby had something to do with it. Looking back from the direction he came, he saw red and blue flashing emergency lights. He knew he should find comfort in that, knowing that police officers must be nearby, but at the same time, he knew that the cold fear that drove him was there. He couldn't go back.

Using the tree for leverage, Carlos slowly, painfully, pulled himself back onto his feet. Looking around him, trying to see a clear path in the dark, he headed away from the lights, away from the river.

+ + + + + + +

"I'm fine!" Butch insisted to the paramedic. "It's my friend that you've gotta help! That _I've_ gotta help!"

"We've already got some people looking for him, Mr. McMann," the paramedic replied. 

"I know that. But Carlos just ain't gonna listen to them. Like I told ya, it's more than just him bein' hurt. He was really affected by what happened."

The paramedic sighed, agreeing with Butch's argument. "Fine," he said. "If you'll just sign the medical release here, refusing treatment and -,"

Butch grabbed the pen and paper out of the paramedic's hand and quickly signed his name on the document. Shoving them both back at the man, he ran towards the end of the bridge, the last place he'd seen Carlos. 

"Mr. McMann?"

Butch turned toward the highway patrolman that had called him.

"Mr. McMann, we've just got a few more questions," the officer continued, stopping Butch from leaving the bridge. "You said you believed Mr. Sandoval had a head injury, correct?"

"Yeah, I saw some blood on the left side of his head," Butch replied impatiently.

"And you believe that his state of mind may not be…"

"May not be quite right," Butch finished. "He's afraid of heights, and bein' trapped in the car like we were, he had a pretty nasty view of the river, so he was kinda spooked."

"And you said he's a private investigator? Any chance he's carrying?" the officer asked. "I need to know, for officer safety purposes," he added.

Butch sighed and thought about the question. "Yeah, he probably is armed. He was a Dallas PD officer before, got some marksmanship awards, if I recall, so… so it's even more important for someone he knows to find him."

And hearing his own words, Butch thought of other people Carlos knew, of the party they had been heading to. He motioned to the cell phone clipped to the officer's belt.

"Hey, mind if I use your phone? I gotta call some friends, let 'em know what happened."

The officer nodded and handed Butch the phone. Butch dialed Walker's number and waited for someone to answer.

__

"Hello?"

"Yeah, Alex, it's me, Butch."

__

"Butch? Where are you guys? The party started almost an hour ago!"

"Yeah, listen, um, there's been an accident."

__

"What?! Oh my gosh, is everyone okay?"

"No, I'm afraid not." Butch took a deep breath and let it out. "Kim's on her way to the hospital. She got banged up pretty good."

"What about you and Carlos?" Alex asked. When Butch didn't reply right away she asked again, _"Butch? Are you and Carlos okay?"_

"I'm fine," he said. "Carlos is hurt."

__

"So he's on his way to the hospital, too," she said, but her tone of voice said that she knew it wasn't true. _"Butch?"_

"He ran off," Butch replied. "We were on the Waverly Bridge. He got scared and took off."

__

"Butch," Walker called, entering the conversation after having listened in on the extension phone, _"Stay put. We'll meet you there and help look."_

"That's what I was hoping, Walker," Butch replied thankfully. "I really think he's gonna need his friends."

+ + + + + + +

Carlos pushed himself off the muddy ground to a kneeling position, sitting on his heels, and tried to catch his breath. He'd long ago lost track of how long he'd been running, tripping and falling again and again on his trek through the dark woods. All he knew was that he could still hear the river, so he must still be in danger. He winced as he wiped his brow with the back of his hand, unknowingly smearing mud across it, and gingerly felt his left temple. _How did I get hurt?_ Images of Kim and Butch came to mind, but he couldn't figure where they fit in. Carlos wanted to scream in frustration, but knew to do so would give him away. He closed his eyes and tried to come to a reasonable conclusion as to why he was running. _Because the bad guys are after me. _ A screech of an owl nearly had him jumping out of his skin and he took off running again.

__

"Carlos, calm down."

"Butch?"

Carlos stopped running and looked around for his friend, despite knowing that he couldn't be there. 

__

"I'm right here, Carlos. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"I'm going crazy, that's it," Carlos muttered, scrubbing his hands through his hair before starting off again.

+ + + + + + +

When the pick up truck and Corvette pulled up to Waverly Bridge, it was almost nine o'clock. Jimmy's party had long been forgotten, and thoughts of finding Carlos were in the fore of everyone's minds. 

"Officer Bennett!" Walker called, recognizing the road patrol officer. 

"Ranger Walker? What are you doing here?" Bennett asked in reply, stepping away from his patrol car and the map of the area he had been looking at.

"Carlos Sandoval is a friend of ours," he replied, gesturing to himself, Jimmy and Trent. "We're going to help find him."

"Unless you've already found him," Jimmy added, a hopeful tone in his voice.

"No, I'm afraid we haven't," Bennett replied to Jimmy. Addressing Walker again, he said, "I've got six men out in the woods looking for Sandoval right now, plus his friend McMann. The K-9 should be here in about twenty minutes or so."

Walker walked over to the map on Bennett's patrol car. "Which way was Carlos headed?"

"He went into the woods just over there," he said, pointing to the small clearing across the road from them, at the end of the bridge and then the corresponding point on the map. "We've tracked him this far, but after that, well, between the rain, mud, leaves and just plain lack of light, we lost him."

"Butch said he was hurt. We gotta find him," Trent spoke up.

"We will, Trent," Walker responded, his tone positive.

"Why don't we head in from this side of the woods," Jimmy suggested, pointing to another area on the map. "If he's been heading south, like you said, then he doesn't have much choice but to head here, to the west, away from the river gorge." 

"Sounds like a good plan," Walker replied, getting approving nods from the other men, as well.

"I'll let the other search teams know your plans," Bennett replied.

+ + + + + + +

Carlos sat back against the tree with an audible sigh. He legs were feeling rubbery and numb and his side and head throbbed along with his beating heart. He didn't think he could go any further. He closed his eyes as he dropped his head down to his knees and tried to concentrate on the sounds around him. He could barely hear the river, now. He'd been heading steadily uphill, away from it, to his satisfaction, but as long as he could hear it, it still wasn't far enough away. The drive in him, the fear of … _Dammit!_ he cursed again, still not remembering why he was running, why he was scared. All he could remember was a distorted image of Kim, lying bloodied beside him. She had to be dead. _I never would have left her if she weren't, right? Someone killed her. Someone must have been after us. And Butch…where did he fit into this?_

__

"I'm right here, Carlos. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Butch?" _They must have him too_, he thought. "God," he groaned. "What the hell is going on?

Images of men in uniform, grabbing at him, calling him, trying to prevent his escape from the danger, came unbidden to his mind. He couldn't understand them, wondering why he'd be running from them. And then the wind changed and the sounds of the river came again, along with the feeling of fear and death, and Carlos was on his feet again, stumbling up the hillside on hands and knees.

+ + + + + + +

"Carlos!"

"Carlos!"

"Sandoval!"

The men shouted out Carlos's name as they walked through the woods, donned in rain gear, flashlight beams bobbing between the raindrops.

"I still don't know why he would have run away like that," Trivette commented as he stepped over a fallen log.

"You saw how high that bridge was, and the view he had from the Durango," Trent replied.

"And given the state of mind he was in, plus a possible head injury," Walker added, leaving the conclusion dangling.

"I guess I'd be in a hurry to get out of there quick, too," Trivette picked up, continuing, "But you'd think once he was on solid ground he'd realize he was safe."

"Head injuries can be tricky things," Trent spoke up. "Knew a guy that took a bad hit on the mats; for five days straight after that, anytime anyone new came to see him he panicked. We never found out why."

"This path seems to branch off over here," Walker announced from ahead of them. "Trivette, Trent, why don't you two take this trail to the right? I'll keep going here."

"Sure, Walker," Trent replied.

+ + + + + + +

"Carlos!" Butch called again, stopping to wipe the rain from his eyes. He'd met up with Officers Parsons and Bedoski as they were searching for Carlos, and the three of them had covered considerable ground. Unfortunately, without success. "No, this way," he called to one officer. "He wouldn't be going downhill, toward the river. That's what he was afraid of; what set him off."

"You're sure?" Bedoski asked, skeptical.

"I'm positive. He'll be heading away from the river, if he can. Uphill."

The officer nodded his head and turned around, headed uphill instead. "Sandoval!" he called out.

+ + + + + + +

Carlos collapsed, his legs no longer supporting him, his side and head injuries hurting too much to move any further. As he lay on the wet ground, breathing heavily, he closed his eyes and tried to remember what happened; why he was running; what he'd done in life to deserve this fate.

"I'm gonna die here in the woods," he whispered to himself. "I'm gonna bleed to death from the inside out and no one's even gonna know it."

"Sandoval!"

Carlos heard his name called out. He looked to his right and thought he saw a flashlight beam in the distance.

"Carlos!" 

Carlos panicked – he couldn't move; physically, his body was spent, and doing so would give away his position, too. So he rolled over and under the closest bush he could find, hoping to hide himself. Reaching into his jacket, he found his gun and brought it out, readying it.

"Sandoval!"

Carlos tried to control his breathing, willing himself and his hiding place invisible as the three men passed by. He couldn't see their faces very clearly in the dark and rain, but he didn't risk trying to see them, either. A few minutes later, when the men were out of earshot, Carlos let himself breathe and relax once more.

+ + + + + + +

Walker found himself meeting up with Trent and Jimmy sooner than he thought, as the separate trails they had taken looped around and merged again. He didn't have to ask if they'd found any sign of their friend, the empty and questioning looks in their eyes were answer enough.

"We're going to find him. Safe and sound," Walker insisted, needlessly.

The words were barely out of his mouth when the men heard the gunshot.

+ + + + + + +

Butch ran after the two officers, toward the sound of the gunshot they'd just heard. _Please, God, let him be alright!_ he prayed as he ran, slowly gaining ground on Officer Parsons. Then he heard the static-covered voice over the officers' radios.

__

"Stand down! Stand down!"

The men slowed to a jog, but kept heading toward the flashlight beams in the distance.

"What's going on?" Bedoski asked into his radio.

__

"Rookie got himself a serial killin' raccoon," came back, the voice amused and sarcastic at the same time.

As Butch, Parsons and Bedoski neared the two officers they'd been talking on the radio with, he noted that one of them had his head down, embarrassed.

"It scared me, jumping out like that," he said in his defense, turning his head to look to the right. 

Butch's flashlight beam followed the rookie's gaze and shone upon the dead raccoon. He shook his head and let out the deep breath he'd been holding; glad it wasn't Carlos's body he was seeing. Noise and commotion from behind them, brought his attention around and he and the four officers brought their flashlights to bear on the newcomers. 

"Butch?" Walker called in hopeful greeting. "Carlos?" he asked when he got closer.

"Walker," Butch called in reply, happy to see his old friend. "We haven't found him yet," he informed him when Walker, Trivette and Trent got close enough.

"What happened? We heard a gunshot?" Trivette asked.

"Is everyone alright?" Trent asked.

"Me and a raccoon happened," the rookie, whose nametag read "White," lamented, owning up to his mistake before his older partner could make fun of him some more.

+ + + + + + +

Carlos swallowed hard against the fear. The men were close, too close. He could hear their voices, see their flashlights, just fifty feet away. He knew he could take out a couple of them, he was an excellent marksman, and even wounded as he was, he knew he could do it. But there were too many of them. He might be able to take out one or two, but the others would see him and return fire. He had no way of changing position, to gain cover and concealment. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and willed his nerves to calm. His heart was still beating out of his chest, scared when he'd heard the gunshot, sure the man had aimed at him; hit him. 

__

Maybe that's the answer, he thought grimly. _Go out fighting. Take as many as I can. That way it'll be a quick death for me, and I'll take some of them with me. One for Kim. One for Butch. _

Gathering his strength and determination, he rolled out from under the bush he'd been hiding in and struggled to sit up. Raising his arms, steadying his gun with both hands, he aimed toward the silhouettes behind the flashlight beams.

+ + + + + + +

"What was that?" White asked, suddenly looking around.

"Just another raccoon, most likely," his partner joked, just before feeling the sting of a bullet graze his arm.

"Down!" Walker cried at the sound of the gunshot. "Lights out!" he ordered, and the others obeyed.

"Who the hell is that?" Trivette asked, incredulous.

"That was for Kim!" Carlos shouted.

"Carlos!" Trent, Butch and Walker shouted at once, calling to their friend.

"Carlos!" Walker called. "It's me, Walker. It's okay. Put your gun down."

"This one's for Butch!" Carlos shouted back, firing his gun at them again.

"Carlos, stop!" Butch yelled. "I'm okay! We're here to help you!"

"What the hell's wrong with him?" White asked as he tried to tie a handkerchief around his partner's wounded arm.

"He's got a head injury, remember?" his partner replied, ducking for cover as another shot rang out.

"Sandoval!" Walker called again. "Carlos, it's us! Walker, Trivette, Butch and Trent! We're your friends! Put the gun down!"

"No! You killed them!"

"No, Carlos! They're fine!" Trent tried.

"Carlos! I'm coming out," Butch called, stepping out of cover, out of reach of the officers. He knew the risk, but how else to prove to Carlos that he was okay? He threw his flashlight out onto the ground between them, lighting up the area, if just a bit.

"I'm gonna kill you all!" 

The men saw Carlos struggle to a standing position, his weapon still out in front of him

"Carlos, calm down," Butch said, his hands out, showing he was weaponless.

__

"Carlos, calm down."

"Butch?" Butch heard the desperateness in Carlos's voice.

"I'm right here, Carlos. I'm not goin' anywhere," he said, continuing to walk slowly toward Carlos.

__

"I'm right here, Carlos. I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Butch?"

Butch saw his hands shaking, legs ready to give out; the pain in Carlos's eyes.

"I'm right here, Carlos," he repeated, closing the gap, reaching slowly for the gun. "I'm not goin' anywhere," he whispered as he took the gun out of Carlos's hands and threw it behind him. "I gotcha," he murmured as Carlos collapsed into his arms. "Some help here!" he called to the others as he brought him to the ground.

White radioed the command post, telling them that they'd found Carlos, and would need the ambulance to meet them at the trailhead to the south, where Walker, Trivette and Trent had entered the woods. 

Forty-five minutes later, the men emerged from the woods, carrying an unconscious Carlos on a makeshift stretcher made from thick branches and coats.

+ + + + + + +

The group met up with Alex in the hospital's waiting room.

"Thank God, you've found him," she said, hugging Walker. "Is he okay?"

"We don't know," Trent replied. "He wasn't quite himself," he added, looking away.

"I'm sure the docs'll patch him up just fine," Butch put in. "What about Kim? How is she?"

"Her doctor just came out a little while ago," Alex replied. "She's got a concussion and a broken arm. Nothing too serious after all."

"Thank God," Walker said aloud. 

"I hope Carlos will be as lucky," Trivette whispered as he collapsed onto one of the couches.

+ + + + + + +

Noises. Annoying noises. Annoying beeping noises. Carlos let out a moan, not wanting to wake up just yet, wanting just five more minutes, five more hours of sleep. He reached out his right arm, aimed it for his alarm clock's snooze button, and was surprised to find its way blocked.

"Whoa there, Carlos," Trent said, directing Carlos's arm back to the bed, but not letting go.

Hearing the familiar voice, knowing it didn't belong in his bedroom, Carlos was forced to open his eyes.

"Trent? What are you doing here?" he asked wearily.

"Just waiting for you to wake up, buddy."

"We all are," Butch added, from the other side of the bed.

Startled by Butch's voice, Carlos quickly turned his head the other way, and soon regretted it, as a wave of pain and nausea overtook him. He let out a loud, pain-filled groan.

"Easy there," Butch soothed. "No more sudden movements like that. The doc said your head got shook up enough already."

When Carlos felt he was sufficiently recovered, he looked at Butch and then, _slowly_ turned his head back toward Trent. "Anybody get the number of that truck?" he whispered painfully.

"No, not yet," Trent replied. "Walker and the State Police are still looking for it."

Carlos was confused. He wasn't expecting an answer to his question. "There really was a truck?" he asked.

"You don't remember?" Butch asked.

Carlos was about to reply when a new voice entered the conversation.

"That's okay, Carlos," Dr. Woods said. "A temporary loss of memory is nothing unusual with head injuries such as yours. I'm Doctor Woods, your attending physician," she added, offering her hand to Carlos to shake, which he did.

"So I was hit by a truck?" 

Butch looked to the doctor for permission to answer. She nodded and he proceeded to tell Carlos about the car accident they were in, and _only_ about the car accident. He didn't dare mention the bridge, or the river, let alone the chase through the woods culminating with Carlos aiming his weapon at police officers.

Carlos closed his eyes for a minute, trying to recall the events. He had flashes of memories; of arguing with Kim outside the office and in the Durango, of Kim…

"Kim!" he shouted, sitting up in the bed too quickly, letting out a muffled scream. "Kim? Is she alright?" he got out through clenched teeth.

Trent and Butch immediately tried to help him lie back down.

"She's fine," Trent said, soothingly. "Just got a mild concussion and a broken arm. She's in better shape than you."

"What's wrong with me?" Carlos asked, watching as Butch and Trent moved away from the bed in order to make room for Dr. Woods and a nurse. He watched as the nurse injected something into the IV attached to his arm. "What's that?"

"Just some medicine to ease the pain and help you sleep, Carlos," Dr. Woods replied. "As for what's wrong… you have a pretty serious concussion. And that fire you're probably feeling in your side is from where we had to operate to control some internal bleeding."

"But Kim's okay?" he asked, still upset, on top of being in pain.

"Carlos, calm down," Butch called from behind Dr. Woods.

That got Carlos's attention. As the pain medicine began to work, the words kept repeating in his head. He saw images of Kim, lying slumped over in her seat, of white water rushing by from far below him, of dark, wet woods all around him, and all accompanied by Butch's words and voice. He closed his eyes and settled down, letting the medicine take over his body.

"I'm going to go call the others, let them know he woke up," Trent whispered following the doctor and nurse out of the room.

Just as Butch was about to sit back into his chair, sure Carlos was asleep again, Carlos whispered, "You didn't leave me."

"Nope. And I'm not goin' anywhere, either. I'll be right here."

+ + + + + + +

"You can't drive! You still have a cast on your arm!"

"Oh, and like you're any better? I saw you down those pain pills."

"Yeah, and now the pain is gone. Right, Butch? Shouldn't I be the one to drive us home?"

"Oh, like the last time you drove us anywhere…?"

Butch counted to ten in his head. As slowly as he could. Then he took a deep breath and let it out. 

"Neither one of you is drivin'," he began, glaring at Kim and Carlos. "Ever again, as far as I'm concerned. 

"So how are we supposed to get home?" Kim asked. "The rental agency only sent one car."

"And that's for me," Butch replied. "My truck is officially dead. I'll be using the rental until I get a new one."

"But …" Carlos began, only to be interrupted by Butch.

"No buts. Here are the cabs now," he said, pointing out the window. One for each of you – I don't care if you only live two blocks from each other – I wouldn't dare subject one of those drivers to such punishment as having both of you in the same cab.

The two looked at Butch with jaws dropped, as if something crazy had just come from his mouth. 

"Get out there, now. Before I do something I'll regret," Butch added.

Kim and Carlos looked at each other and then at Butch again. They nodded their heads, knowing deep down that Butch meant business, and headed out to the cabs. Butch sighed in relief. "You know, God," he said aloud, looking upwards, "I don't mean to sound like an ungrateful bastard, you know I've thanked you every day that those two are alright. But, Lord, couldn't you have given one of them a broken jaw or somethin'?" He shook his head, knowing deep down that no matter how much he prayed, he'd be stuck with the bickering pair. He smiled then. "Never mind. Just…thanks," he added, and went about locking up the bar.


End file.
